


Into Temptation

by Cumberbatch Critter (ivelostmyspectacles)



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Everybody Lives, M/M, Married Life, Post-Game(s), Table Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-05
Updated: 2018-01-05
Packaged: 2019-02-27 17:50:41
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,981
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13253484
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ivelostmyspectacles/pseuds/Cumberbatch%20Critter
Summary: Ignis looks away from his notes, up at him properly and ohyes, there will be a lecture tonight, Noct thinks, lips curving into the barest of a smile. He tries not to. It’s really not the place, surrounded by dignitaries and all of this official business he would rather leave behind just then. But he can’t help it. Ignis’s face is carefully impassive, but his eyes are dark as they linger on him.





	Into Temptation

It makes people uncomfortable, Noctis thinks, but he can’t quite bring himself to care. He should, and he might, later, when he and Ignis are crawling into bed and there will be a lecture on his husband’s tongue, but staring across the conference table at ash brown hair and green eyes when they happen to flick up towards him, the king cannot bring himself to mind.

Ignis looks away from his notes, up at him properly and oh _yes_ , there will be a lecture tonight, Noct thinks, lips curving into the barest of a smile. He tries not to. It’s really not the place, surrounded by dignitaries and all of this official business he would rather leave behind just then. But he can’t help it. Ignis’s face is carefully impassive, but his eyes are dark as they linger on him.

A piece of hair falls into Noctis’s face. He brushes it away, behind an ear, and Ignis’s eyes follow the movement. Attention fully, momentarily, off of the meeting and onto Noct himself, and Noct ever-so-casually drops his hand beneath the low table.

Ignis’s eyes widen, _ever_ so slightly, a promise of _you’re going to suffer for this impropriety later, Majesty._ His inner voice even says it with Ignis’s accent, and Noct very, _very_ briefly full on grins as he palms against the front of his own trousers.

Someone down the table coughs softly; he nearly slams his hand into the bottom of the table if he hadn’t known, already, that he can get away with stroking himself off with no one noticing. The cough is for the lingering look, and Noct realizes he and Ignis are still staring at each other. He’s become a pro at this, letting conversation filter into the barest of his subconscious so that he can return to it and pluck out a detail that will prove he’s been– somewhat– listening.

“So what of the topographical report in Cleigne?” he asks, finally turning his head away from his husband, and he wonders if Ignis’s gaze turns away, too. He doesn’t check.

When he finally does turn back, Ignis has indeed gone back to his notes. Noct wonders, still lazily teasing himself beneath the table, if he imagines the flush he thinks he can simmering just below Ignis’s collar. Probably. Ignis never breaks face, when they play this game.

Not that they _play it often_ , mind, but there’s been times where Noct can barely keep his hands out of his pockets long enough to walk to the bathroom, there are times when he’s loathe to stand at all to see everyone out. _Often,_ Ignis is the first one out, leaving Noctis left behind to clean up his own mess, so to speak. _Rarely_ , Ignis is waiting for him in their chambers after their meetings. Their schedules don’t often line up with the latter, though. Sadly.

His hands are back on the table by the time everyone is filing out, which is just as well: the latest press of his hand combined with Ignis opening his mouth to say something– merely commenting on the studies that have been provided, nothing _perverse_ but does Noctis imagine that his voice had pitched lower? _probably_ – nearly had him jerking into his own touch, catching himself at the last second with his free hand clutching at the edge of the table. Ignis had given him a superior look, and licked his thumb to turn the page in their reports.

 _Touché, Majesty,_ he hears him say in his head, and Noct feigns interest in his paperwork and thanks each person methodically as they leave.

Ignis, however, is not among them.

Noctis doesn’t look up, even when the room is empty save the two of them. He is suddenly unsure if he regrets having begun this dance, or if he’s excited for its culmination. Oh, who he is kidding. His cock, straining at the front of his horribly uncomfortable trousers, is answer enough. Ignis stands, and Noct trembles minutely.

“By all means, Majesty.” Ignis sidles up next to him. The hand he lays on his arm feels like it’s alight with sagefire. “Don’t be bashful _now,”_ he says, mouth against his ear, and Noct thinks he nearly breaks the chair in his haste to pull Ignis in.

He all but topples into Noctis’s lap, with a gust of breath that the king eagerly swallows. Crushing his mouth against his as Ignis squirms to situate himself in the chair, hands braced against the armrests and Noctis’s chest and shoulder and thigh. Noct’s complaint at a sharp jab of pain, a knee slamming clumsily into flesh, turns to a moan as Ignis settles, straddling his lap, _grinds_ down against him.

Ignis catches a hand against his neck; the touch is a little rough and a little tight, and he tilts Noctis’s head back so that he’s looking up at him. Noct lets him dictate willingly, eyes dancing and chest heaving, stretches his neck up to kiss him again.

Ignis pulls back before he can. His hand, gently, squeezes. “You need to learn to _behave,_ lest you embarrass _everyone_ in this conference room.”

Noctis hums in acknowledgment. In actuality, the words aren’t registering. Only the tone of his voice, and the look on his face, and the fact that Ignis is now fully flushed, and the fact that one hand dips from Noctis’s shoulder, to the king’s erection, and then his own.

“You need not sully yourself for all of Lucis to see, Majesty.”

Ignis lets him kiss him when he stretches up this time; he loses himself in the kiss and bites at his lip and then pulls away. “Punish me, then,” Noct breathes, and it feels ridiculous, but he wouldn’t _mind_ , and he watches the humor light up Ignis’s eyes before it is carefully put away, hidden beneath casual dominance and encompassing lust.

“I’m here on my own accord,” Ignis says, and shifts against Noct’s lap again. “Today’s my day off, if you’ll recall.”

Oh. That’s right. _That’s_ why Ignis is indulging him.

Right. _Right._

Noctis slides his hands down, hands pressing over Ignis’s and then nudging at his knee, urging him to his feet. Ignis goes without protest, eyes still dark, growing curious, and Noct backs him up the foot and a half to the tabletop. Swallows his protest as the small of his back hits the edge of the table and urges him up onto it.

He goes without protest, again, planting both hands against the tabletop to heft himself up. Noctis leans in to kiss him, hard, _again_ , clasping a hand at the back of his neck, one sliding down his clutch at a thigh, and squeeze.

He relishes in every noise, every soft moan against his lips, every tug of Ignis’s fingers buried into his hair and the scrape of his nails dragging against his scalp. Why he loves these meetings. Why he loves riling Iggy up during them. A flustered Ignis is his favorite Ignis, no– that’s a lie– a _devious_ Ignis is his favorite Ignis–

That’s a lie, too. _Every_ Ignis is his favorite Ignis. But this one, he thinks, grinning at the noise Ignis makes as he drags a finger over the zip of his trousers, is decidedly one of the most _fun._

Noctis’s free hand is braced against the table now, Ignis flat on his back, and his hands clasp either side of Noctis’s face, quickly, when the king pulls down the zipper and flicks open the button.

“Lock the door,” Ignis says. He’s breathless.

Noctis grins. Even more. His face aches. His body aches. His pants need to have gone yesterday. He slips his hand into Ignis’s briefs.

Ignis’s grip on his face tightens, likely pressing bruises into his hairline, where they won’t be seen. “Noct, lock the godsdamn door.”

He laughs– still wants to groan, because Ignis is being _fussy_ , who’s going to walk in on them– actually, he’s being fair because they _have_ been walked in on before, but who _cares–_ but it gives him time to shuck down his own pants, and nearly trips on his way back.

“Stop laughing,” he commands, even before Ignis does.

Ignis isn’t laughing, not really, but the amusement is clear. “Is that an _order?”_

He hooks his fingers into the waistband of his husband’s  trousers. “Maybe,” he says, and pushes them down. The process is expedited by the fact that Ignis has already kicked off his shoes. “Eager.”

“Not at all.” He’s shivering, just a little. It’s cold by necessity in the conference room so that people don’t doze off, thermostat dropped lower than usual and Noct regrets _that_ choice, just a little bit. “I’m not the one who keeps lubricant in his jacket _pocket_ ,” Ignis continues, and a stocking foot nudges Noctis’s jacket, right so where he _is_ hiding away his lube.

 _“Stop.”_ Noctis catches his ankle, hitches it up over his shoulder. “Behave!”

Ignis’s eyes are _gleaming._ “Punish me,” he says, voice flat. But those eyes. They give everything away.

“Oh, I _will_.”

It’s not a punishment, he supposes, pressing fingertips into his thigh as he thrusts into him, short and quick and uncoordinated as hell. He can hear people going about the usual business out in the entrance. Someone, somewhere, is _undoubtedly_ looking for him. He doesn’t care. He doesn’t care. Ignis’s breaths are muffled by the arm he’s thrown over his face, biting into his sleeve. Noctis’s breath catches, he’s never been one to last long, not at twenty, not at _thirty,_ his hair’s stuck to his forehead with sweat and his hands are clammy, and he strokes three fingers along Ignis’s thigh, softly, and _smiles_ when Ignis peers at over his arm.

Ignis smiles back.

Noctis wonders what alternate universe he’s fallen into, to have this, deserve this, and still… he doesn’t care. He _does_ have it. That’s all that matters.

That, and the fact that Ignis’s hand snatches Noctis’s off the table as he comes, back arching off the table, the quiet cry of release muffled by his uniform. He draws Noctis through his own orgasm like that, clenched around him, fingers clenched around his hand. Hard and fast ends the way that every single time they fall together does: soft, and caring, and gentle, sweaty hands clutching at each other. Some things will never change, of that Noct is certain.

He nearly collapses onto the table himself when he pulls out. Ignis, ever vigilant, sits up in time to catch him against his chest instead, and urges him back into his previously vacated chair.

“Well, well.”

“Hmmm.”

 _“Quite_ the punishment, it seems,” Ignis says, and his smirk is soft.

Noct doesn’t understand how he can be so steady on his feet after that. “Dunno. Are we getting too old for table fucking?”

Ignis makes a noise as he pulls up his pants. “Hardly.”

Now he raises his eyebrows. He doesn’t make any effort to fix his clothes just yet. He just wants to take a nap. “Are you _encouraging_ it, then?”

“Perhaps.” He buttons, and refastens his belt. “I know that you’ll never behave as it is, so why bother hoping for it now?”

His breath hitches in a gasp. “Offensive. Insubordination, Mr Scientia.”

“That’s _Caelum-_ Scientia,” Ignis says, and leans down to kiss him. Softly.

Noct thinks he chuckles, and he loses himself, for however briefly again, in the press of Ignis’s lips against his. He lets him guide him this time, back to his feet and to fix his pants and shirt and jacket, and he lets him guide him out of the conference room and up to the bedroom, mumbles a grateful reply when Ignis promises him a ten minute nap before he wakes him for his next meeting.

Insubordination, yeah, right. Of the best kind.

Noct catches Ignis’s hand as he turns away, and Ignis, faithful, stays.

 

**Author's Note:**

> inspired by a comment that THAT SINNER 'IGNIS' I RP WITH ON TUMBLR said to me lol love ya o/
> 
> but 30 y/o Noct casually flustering Ignis during Important Things is... really good okay. bonus points if anyone can pick out the hint of a kink I don't have the guts to write... yet LOL


End file.
